


Donut Give Up

by Raccoonfg



Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Aerobics, Donuts, Gen, Jogging, dieting, fitness, weight loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-21
Updated: 2016-07-21
Packaged: 2018-07-25 21:51:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7548490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raccoonfg/pseuds/Raccoonfg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by the exciting crime-fighting adventures of Nick and Judy, Benjamin Clawhauser decides to get himself into shape so he can convince Chief Bogo to put him on active field duty, but does he have what it takes to lose all that weight?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Donut Give Up

**Author's Note:**

> The following short story was written for /trash/'s Thematic Thursday event; /fit/ Zootopia (07/21/16)

“Come on, Nick! We gotta hurry if we’re going to catch that tiger by his tail!”

“Right behind you, Carrots.”

“Aww,” Clawhauser sighed as he watched the pair trot out of the precinct’s lobby. “There they go again, off on another exciting caper.”

“Mm hm,” Bogo grunted absently, not bothering to look up from the clipboard he was reading.

“It’d be nice to have a little excitement now and then,” Ben continued to think out loud, plucking a pink frosted donut from his ever-present box of deep fried delights. “Solve a mystery… Catch the bad guy…” He took a big bite out of his treat and closed his eyes, picturing himself as a hero cop. A big smile slowly spread across his face. “For once I’d get to be the guy who walks the perp up to this desk and say something clever like…” Ben twiddled the other half of his donut in the air, working out a witty remark in his head. “I dunno,” he shrugged, “something about elephants never forgetting to obey the law, I guess.”

“Mm hm.” Bogo continued to pay little attention to Clawhauser’s prattling as he flipped over some of the pages pinned to the clipboard. After a few moments, Bogo became aware of the silence of anticipation that hung in the air. He reluctantly lowered his clipboard to see Clawhauser eagerly looking up at him with his big kitty-cat eyes; his paws raised and pressed together in a beseeching gesture. “What?”

“Chiiiiii~eeeeeeeff…”

“Out of the question!” Bogo shook his head and waved the clipboard in the air like he was shooing away the very idea. Clawhauser however still maintained his doughy expression and somehow made his eyes look bigger and waterier that before. The Chief gave a frustrated snort and fixed him with a stern look. “I’m sorry Clawhauser, I know it must be inspiring to see officers like Hopps and Wilde run off to fight crime with a fast quip and a fist-bump, but the fact of the matter is that you simply don’t qualify for the physical standards of field duty.”

“But Chiiiiieeee--”

“Clawhauser!” Bogo impatiently raised his hoof to cut off the cheetah’s further whining. The curt action seemed to sting the big cat, as he finally dropped his paws back to his sides and lowered his gaze, so Bogo placed his other hoof on Ben’s shoulder in a sympathetic gesture. “If you really want me to approve you for the field, you’re going to have to lose some weight.” He jerked his head to the side and motioned towards the still open box of donuts with his free hoof. “You might even have to give up on those. Are you willing to do that?”

“Well,” Ben shifted uncomfortably, “maybe…”

Bogo shook his head and released his grasp on Ben’s shoulder. “Nothing is gained from maybes, Clawhauser.” He then turned to make his way to the lobby’s elevator, still speaking over his shoulder. “Either you make the first step forward, or you stay behind your desk. Think about it.”

Clawhauser slumped over the front desk with his heavy head propped up in both of his arms, and let out a mournful sigh. He knew that the chief was right; he was too overweight for field duty, and the reason for it was plain as day. His eyes glanced over at the box of donuts and he batted a paw at the open lid, sloppily shutting it. If he was going to make a serious attempt at losing weight, he would have to cut the calories, and like Bogo said, that meant no more donuts. Starting now, he was on a diet.

Ten minutes later, he felt his mouth salivating.

Fifteen minutes later, he felt his tummy rumbling.

Thirty minutes later, he decided his diet could wait until tomorrow.

Sixty minutes later, the donut box was empty.

 

* * *

 

The next day, Clawhauser woke up bright and early; ready to take on the first day of the rest of his life as a physically fit cheetah. It was his day off, so he wanted to make the most of it and start his newfound dedication to dieting and exercise with a mighty leap, rather than baby steps.

The first new compromise was the change to his morning routine. Instead of his usual big bowl of Lucky Chomps, he sat down at his kitchen table with some healthier cereal that he picked up on the way home the other night.

Unsweetened Whole Bran Chunkos, and a carton of low-fat almond milk.

The drab packaging did little to enthuse Clawhauser, and the resulting appearance of the two products mixed in his bowl didn’t fare any better. Grimacing at the bowl of brown floating in less-brown, he picked up his spoon and tucked in. Fortunately, it tasted better than it looked, but it still lacked the sugary zing of Lucky Chomps. If it wasn’t for a glass of OJ sweetening his taste buds, he would have been tempted to add a spoonful or two of sugar.

Once he was done with breakfast, he got dressed in a pair of yellow shorts and a pink tank top that had Gazelle’s name printed across it in glittery, purple puff print. He then went into his hall closet and retrieved his old VCR, which was caked in dust after years of undisturbed storage. Obviously he didn’t have much use for it these days, but the only workout video he had on hand was a VHS cassette that his mom gave him back when he was at college, so he blew the dust off the old machine and hooked it up to his TV. After a few moments of fiddling with the video tracking, he stood proudly in front of his TV, ready to begin.

On the screen, the title ‘Panting to the Oldies’ popped up, and the image of a wiry lion in a loose fitting workout outfit faded into view. His mane was frizzy and curled into a bouncy perm, and his body was constantly moving around like he never took a break from being active. He was standing in the middle of a sound stage, and as the studio lights started to brighten, a group of smiling animals of different ages and sizes became visible behind him.

“Okay mammals,” the lion host started speaking in a high and effeminate voice, clapping his paws with nearly every syllable, “we’re going to lose some weight and have fun doing it!” The group smiled brighter; some even offered light cheers and whoops of excitement. “And you at home are going to have fun too, just you wait and see! Let’s gooo!”

As a peppy Moletown tune started to play, the mammals on the screen got into formation and began following the lion’s lead, mixing aerobics with light dance steps. Clawhauser tried to keep pace and follow along, which seemed tricky at first, but soon he was getting into it. He even had to admit it was kinda fun. Sure it was campy, but campy was right up his alley.

“Come on!” The lion gave a beckoning wave of his paws at the camera, inviting his viewers to join in. “You can do it! I know you can! Because you’re beautiful! Inside and out!” With another clap of his paws, the lion spun around and led the backup group into a set of side stretches. Clawhauser did a little spin as well and alternated between stretching to the left and right with the beat. He was having fun. So much fun, that he failed to notice the clattering noise his old VCR was starting to make. “Come on boys and girls! Work it! Work it! Wor-r-r-r-r-r-rrr…”

The screen stuttered on a still image of the lion host for a few moments before the picture cut out entirely, leaving Clawhauser with a blue screen stating ‘No Video’. Wondering what went wrong, he stooped over and hit the eject button. The VCR roughly spat out the cassette, and as Clawhauser pulled it out, a mass of black tape trailed out in mangled clumps.

“And I thought I was hungry,” Ben said to himself with an embarrassed chuckle. He gathered up what remained of the tape, and tossed it into the trash. It was a minor setback, but it still felt a little discouraging. “Oh well, it’s not like losing weight was going to be a walk in the park, right?”

And then it dawned on him.

“But maybe… It could still be a jog in the park! Ooo!” Clawhauser jumped in excitement at his sudden spark of brilliance and ran off to collect his keys and iPaw Shuffle.

 

* * *

 

On a beautiful sunny day like this, it was no surprise that Reservoir Park was packed with so many of Zootopia’s citizens, but Clawhauser didn’t expect to see such a diverse crowd of joggers, skaters and cyclists zipping around the circular lake-like basin. He was still goggling at all the activity when a bespectacled rabbit darted past him, urging her running partner, a panting and wheezing raccoon, to keep up the pace. They were followed by a pack of speed-walking otters, a quintet of voles on a tandem bicycle, and a trio of sloths that were taking either a casual stroll or an energetic sprint; it was hard for him to tell the difference when it came to sloths.

Once he had finally shook off the dizzying blur of mammals, Clawhauser put on his ear-buds, queued up his eighties pop playlist, and joined the living carousel of exercisers. At first his legs felt stiff and heavy, undoubtedly due to years of inactive desk-riding, but soon his movement started to feel light and swift as the uplifting mixture of electric guitars and synthesizers piped into his ears. Moments later he found himself striding with ease; his head and shoulders bobbing from side to side with the tempo.

Through the blare of his music, he could faintly hear someone call his name, so he turned and saw a pair of wolves from work were jogging alongside him, waving with friendly smiles on their faces. Clawhauser naturally returned in kind with his own exaggerated wave and cheesy grin, happy to have some colleagues join him, but they soon outpaced him and slowly faded off into the distance, melding into the rest of the herd. Getting left behind stung his pride a little, but Ben still pressed on at his own speed.

It was maybe twenty minutes later that Clawhauser started to feel the proverbial burn. “Whew,” he said to himself breathlessly, “This is harder work than I thought. At least I’m wrapping up my first lap.” He then had a look around his surroundings and the sinking realization took hold of him; he was barely halfway around the reservoir and still had a lot more to go before he could finish an entire lap. Knowing that there was no way he could walk into work tomorrow knowing he backed out halfway, Ben let out a petulant moan and forced himself to press onward.

It was another fifteen minutes later, while listening to a Bunny Tylor song about absent heroes, that Clawhauser started to feel that familiar rumbling in his belly. He had already burned off the energy from the Bran Chunkos he ate earlier, and his body was getting desperate for more fuel. But he couldn’t stop to eat now. He knew that if he did, he might not be able to get himself back up and running. Defeat by hunger was not an option.

Minutes later, his iPaw switched to a track by Pred or Alive. He hummed along with it and tried to keep himself moving; focusing on the chorus about records spinning around.

Round.

Round.

Like a round donut.

A big, round, fluffy donut.

Clawhauser caught himself on the verge of drooling and had to pluck the ear-buds off his head to stop fantasizing about his favorite fattening snack. It was the last thing he needed to think about. Instead, he decided to shift his attention to the people around him, figuring that maybe the sight of others soldiering on would encourage him to keep at it too. While watching a herd of sheep trotting ahead of him, he heard a bicycle bell ring from behind, so he shifted aside to allow a giraffe on a velocipede to pass by. As he looked at the bizarre looking bike, his mind started to consider the great big wheel it had up front. It was just so big… And round… Just like—

Clawhauser gritted his teeth and growled at himself for letting his mind wander towards donuts again. He had to focus. He had to work hard. He had to finish at least one lap around the reservoir. He told himself to just keep running along the path. The chocolate brown dirt path. Sprinkled with pebbles. The path that ran around the circular pool. A circle. Like a—

“Oh no,” he groaned to himself. It seemed like there was no escape. Literally everything around reminded him of—

“Donuts! Get your artisan donuts here!” A jovial pig bellowed as he rode his bicycle cart along the outside of the path; ringing a series of bells to attract customers. “Hey,” the pig called over at Ben, “chubby cheetah, can I interest you in a sea salt and dark chocolate dip donut?”

“I caaann’t!” Clawhauser whined.

“Okay, Mac. Suit yourself,” the pig said with a smile and a shrug as he sped up and rode on ahead, still shouting, “Donuts! Get your hand made, top quality, artisan donuts! Donuts!”

Clawhauser was starting to feel dazed and lightheaded. Everywhere he looked bombarded him with visions of donuts.

The two tigers on roller-skates? Donuts.

The civet on a skateboard? Donuts.

The hippo on a unicycle? Donuts.

Even the sun looked like one big apple fritter.

He grew dizzier and dizzier. His legs started to stumble and move about erratically, causing a group of mice to scatter and scurry away from his bumbling feet. Every muscle in his body went loose and wobbly as he staggered off of the path. His head was spinning; hallucinations of little donut-hole cherubs fluttered around him mockingly. The last thing he thought before his knees gave out and he toppled to the ground, was ‘this must be what a jelly donut feels like’.

And so he laid there on his back, whimpering at the sky while trying to ignore the murmurs of the various onlookers who wondered if he was okay.

“A commendable effort,” a deep, familiar voice said, and the chiselled face of Bogo loomed over him. “I’ll admit that I didn’t expect you to actually give it a go.”

“Getting into shape is haaarrrd,” Clawhauser sobbed.

“Nothing worth doing is ever easy,” Bogo replied, and stuck out his hoof in an offer to help him up. “I think you’ve had enough for today. Come on, I’ll walk you home.”

Clawhauser reluctantly took hold of his hoof and was yanked back to his feet with surprising ease. The Chief really was as strong as he looked. Bogo then wrapped his arm around Clawhauser’s, holding up the weak and weary cheetah, and they proceeded to slowly walk out of the park, arm in arm. A few onlookers whispered and giggled, but Ben was too busy moping to care and Bogo simply didn’t care at all.

“There’s no shame in overworking yourself on your first day,” Bogo said in an attempt to cheer Ben up. “I even pushed myself too far back when I started weight training.”

“R-really?” Clawhauser sniffed, his face starting to perk up a little.

“Of course,” Bogo nodded and smiled to himself, remembering his younger years as a scrawny cape buffalo. “I wasn’t born built like this, you know.”

“I hope not,” Ben said, trying to suppress a giggle, “or your mom would’ve had a painful time giving birth to you!” His restraint then failed as he broke out into a fitful chortle at the mental image of a giant baby Bogo.

“Clawhauser!”

“Sorry Chief.”

Bogo sighed and shook his head. “What I’m trying to say is that I’m proud of you for actually making a solid effort to improve yourself.”

“Thanks Chief.” As the two continued from the park and out onto the city sidewalk, Clawhauser considered Bogo’s words. “Um, Chief..?”

“Mm?”

“Since you thought I did pretty well for my first day, maybe… I deserve a treat?” Bogo immediately stopped and shot him a withering look. “Like, I dunno… A dozen donuts?”

“Clawhauser…”

“Okay, okay! Half a dozen.”

Bogo grumbled and resumed escorting Clawhauser, this time with a quick and irritated pace.

“Three donuts? …Two? Fiiine, one donut and a diet soda. Okay Chief? …Chief? Chiiiiii~eeeeeeff?”


End file.
